


Timing

by JantoJones



Series: Brief Briefings [47]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 10:14:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8574358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones





	

Napoleon opened his eyes and groaned. As he pulled himself into a sitting position, he shook his head to try and clear the ringing in his ears. It was a move which he immediately regretted. Pressing his hand to his throbbing skull, Napoleon looked around at an entirely grey scene. Everything, from the half collapsed walls to Solo’s previously black suit, was coated in a thick dust. It was all a result of the explosives his partner had set in order to destroy a small THRUSH nest. 

Looking up at where the ceiling used to be, Napoleon was struck by the way the sky, which was grey with the threat of rain, matched the colour of everything around him. Then he thought that, if the roof wasn’t up there, then they had been very lucky not to have been buried by it. It was only then that Napoleon realised he couldn’t see Illya anywhere.

“Illya!” he called out, trying not to choke on the dust in his throat. “Tovarisch?!”

A quiet moan drew his attention to a shapeless mound close by. Looking closely, Napoleon could see the mound was breathing. Napoleon carefully picked his way over and gently rolled Illya onto his back. 

“Are you okay?” he asked as two blue eyes gazed up at him.

“Da, I’m fine,” Illya trotted out his stock reply.

In reality, he was experiencing a great deal of pain from his right arm. Kuryakin suspected it was broken, but that was a problem for later. Right now, he had the issue of the timer he'd set to worry about.

“Help me up,” he requested, holding out his good arm.

“Something tells me another trip to medical is called for,” Solo commented as he pulled Illya to his feet. “I definitely need something for this headache.”

The Russian ignored him. Instead, he began to make his way to the, thankfully clear, exit. Watching him go, Napoleon noticed that he was looking a little sheepish.

“Just as a matter of interest,” Napoleon said, in a conversational tone. “That seemed to be a shorter than usual five minutes.”

Illya continued to remain silent.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” Solo continued. “I admire your inestimable talent when it comes to explosives, but it does seem you were a little off on the timing. It isn't like you to make such a mistake.”

Kuryakin stopped and turned to face Napoleon.

“It was meant to be five minutes, I obviously miscalculated,” he acknowledged. “You’re never going to let me forget this are you?”

“You wound me, partner mine,” Napoleon gasped, clasping his hands to his chest. “As if I would bring this up at every available opportunity. I've barely mentioned how you dropped that device from Victor Marton, which could have been a bomb*.”

Only every day since it happened, Illya thought to himself, but decided not to retaliate. He would simply bide his time until Napoleon made a mistake.

 

_*Devious Device._


End file.
